


Do You Remember The Time (Back In 2009)

by ggukkiebaby



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: 2009, 2009! Dan Howell - Freeform, 2009! Phil Lester, 2009!phan, AU, Depression, Hospital, Imaginary Friends, M/M, Pills, Sad, Valentine's Day, dan is depressed, phil isn't real, reference to video
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-21
Updated: 2015-07-21
Packaged: 2018-04-10 11:31:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4390196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ggukkiebaby/pseuds/ggukkiebaby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Do you remember that evening back in 2009, when we sat on the fountain and looked at the stars? You laid your head on my shoulder and I held your hand, and it was perfect.</p><p>Until eventually, you were gone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Do You Remember The Time (Back In 2009)

Hi.

  
I guess I should start off by saying writing this letter is completely pointless and I’m just wasting my time, but I felt like I should at least write something, even if I don’t actually have anyone to write it to. I just thought that you’re the only one who might pick this up if you saw it, and actually take the time to read a few lines before even you got bored and dismissed it. Maybe someone else will find this and pretend to be sad when they find me. That’s what everyone does, isn’t it? They hear stories on the news of people going missing or being murdered and they pretend to be sad for the sake of it. And, yeah, maybe a few decent people are genuinely sad but even that doesn’t last for long.

  
Nothing ever does, really.

  
I remember a period of time in my life where I was genuinely happy. You were there. There were a few days, but you were always there. Do you remember that evening back in 2009, when we sat on the fountain and looked at the stars? You laid your head on my shoulder and I held your hand, and it was perfect. I remember you had to leave and I begged you to stay so I could introduce you to my parents but you were adamant. You were always like that. I would pretend to find it annoying, I even tried to find it annoying a few times but I couldn’t. I could not find a flaw in you.

  
I remember always talking about you. About how you would always had this one bit of hair that refused to behave, or how your eyes were three different colours at once. I remember the first time my parents asked to meet you I called you straight away. I remember how I was so excited, chatting away, planning everything whilst you stayed silent.

  
The day you were supposed to meet my parents, you were sick.

  
Over the next few months, I tried again countless times, but something always came up. Your second cousin was getting married, it was your mum’s birthday, a grandparent was sick and needed to be visited in the hospital. I remember my mum’s varying responses over time when I told her your newest excuse, until eventually she snapped. The next week was full of shouting and insults and accusations. I remember being on the phone to you, begging you to come over.

  
And you accepted. So, you came over.

  
I remember my mum’s expression when I walked through the door, pushing you in front of me. There, I thought. Take that. You were wrong.

  
I remember my mum’s hopeful expression falling as she looked at you – no. Through you. I remember her murmur of, “I’m so sorry,” before she embraced me, tears in her eyes. I remember staring at you, confused, over her shoulder, your sad eyes looking devoid of colour despite the three different shades I always said I loved.

  
And then you walked away.

  
The next week was a blur of pale walls, white sheets and pills.

  
Pills.

  
That was what my life centred around for a while. Different doses of different colours, at different times each day, watched through somebody else’s eyes, taken through somebody else’s mouth, seen through a thin, white veil of nothingness, but at night it was different. At night it was worse because at night I could feel. I remember being tired, so, so, tired but not being able to close my eyes. I remember how the ceiling, so plain at daytime, would distort into horrifying shapes of a different world. I remember the circus inside my head, the main act being distorted figures in hospital uniforms, leering as they forced their patronizing words down my throat.

  
But the worst thing was that you were there too.

  
You were there, and I’d look forward to it, because you’d hold my hand and you’d whisper reassuring things in my ear, and I’d try not to notice how your skin was getting paler, your grip getting weaker, your eyes losing their spark they had on that winter evening when we sat on the fountain and looked at the stars back in 2009.

  
Until eventually, you were gone.

  
Do you remember that day back in 2009? I remember I could see the three different colours in your eyes, and the spark that lit them too.

  
And as I’m lying here, surrounded by pale walls, white sheets and pills, I can almost forget how quickly the light faded.

  
And as those very same pills travel down my throat, I can almost forget how the light faded in mine, too.

**Author's Note:**

> so basically i just wrote this as a monologue to be spoken and it wasn't supposed to be phan at first but yeah  
> phil is just an imaginary person dan made up to cope with depression in this and this is dan's letter to him before he dies im sorry  
> the title is from the 2009 phan song which i didn't write look it up


End file.
